


Guilty Desires of Treachery

by Wara_Fawkesfall



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Soft Hubert von Vestra, Tenderness, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wara_Fawkesfall/pseuds/Wara_Fawkesfall
Summary: He wanted her to stay dead, but fate was cruel and tortuous for only a handful of years later he witnessed the fevered ghost of his past had resurfaced. She was full of life, fighting with the strength of a soul renewed, purged from its own sins of the past.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Getting back into the swing of things and will be posting some shorter one-offs under this title to explore some ideas.  
> Takes place in canon gameplay.  
> I hope you enjoy :)

~ The Most Welcome of the Unwelcome ~

She died once.  
The moment when she crossed over to that bastard’s side, the opposite to his own.  
She died again.  
The moment when she fell into the abyssal unknown, her echoing screams the only farewell.  
He wanted her to stay dead, but fate was cruel and torturous for only a handful of years later he witnessed the fevered ghost of his past had resurfaced. She was full of life, fighting with the strength of a soul renewed, purged from its own sins of the past.  
Fighting as if they had never shared their hearts,  
as if he was the one who had vanished from the world.  
Fighting as if he was the evil that had plagued her,  
as if he was the monster that threatened the very balance of the world.

The pain of having her as his enemy was naught but an annoyance, however, the purity of anger that he felt when he crossed her again at Gronder Field, broken and bruised, not of this war, was a true test of his morals and loyalty. After all there had been rumours of the unstable prince and his savage rage that knew not of friend or foe. It was clear where that rage went and to whom took the brunt of it all, in a futile effort to save face and preserve what unity the rebellion held.

Hubert was hardly surprised to read that after their defeat and swift retreat from Gronder, Byleth was reported to have followed after the mad King, protecting him from the scouts that pursued and her reward? He snapped her arm…her sword arm.

Hubert’s jaw clenched as he crumpled the report in his hands. How he wished he had taken the opportunity to throttle the prince back in the days of the Academy, to have rid himself from one of the greatest annoyances he had ever known, and that had nothing to do with any wish to spare Byleth the pain in the process. No, that was a mere coincidence.

He did not need to convince himself that he no longer cared for the woman any longer, in fact, he rejoiced in the news that the warrior was now burdened with a wound that would severely limit her capacity. It was a small victory, and he would fully exploit this weakness in the battles to come.  
Yes, there would be more. Even with a broken sword arm Hubert was more than aware how dangerous she could be, how she had more than one method to exercise her deadly abilities. It made sense, since he was the one who helped her hone some of her darker abilities. A move that he could not bring him self to regret, she was so eager to learn and in her blank faced expression he was still able to sense her desire. 

Giving his head a shake Hubert turned from the table where there were reports strewn about and gazed over the low crackling fire that illuminated the small inn room. A temporary accommodation as he worked to transfer new orders to their shadow army and spies within the Alliance territory. Tossing the crumbled report into the wicked flames Hubert then turned his attention to the landscape beyond, the setting sun that cast such colours of fire into the sky, contrasted by the oncoming storm clouds. 

A strange wind blew that evening, it was unsettling and made Hubert incredibly weary. It was a sensation of reminiscing and bloodlust, a strange combination to say the least.

It was later into the evening, and as the sky promised the storms came, gale winds and torrential rains that flooded the town's pathways. It bothered Hubert little as it provided cover for the number of visitors he had. Spies that had been stationed all across Fodlan and beyond were called to return to the Capital, however, Hubert had his own battalion of dark lurkers to instruct with new orders. Namely to keep tabs on the mad prince, and if by chance, his loyal guardian that had proved vexing to monitor as she was able to drive away most of his spies. And he was always sure to send his most skilled.

Something broke his reverie, someone was near, and their presence differed from those of his spies…drawing magic into his palms Hubert crossed over to the door to his room, assessing if who was beyond was friend or foe. Unable to sense any hostility or murderous intent he cautiously opened the door slightly, to see a hooded figure who hid their face from his peering eyes, however the smell of blood and steel radiated from them. 

Opening the door further and before Hubert could question this stranger a pale hand reached out, white as snow, covered in scars upon scars, and came to rest upon his chest. The contact startled him, the audacity to touch one such as he enraged him as he swiped the hand away, it dropped down weakly as the stranger let out a surprised gasp.

It was an immediate realization, though he prayed to whatever gods would listen that it was not so. 

“Cast not your face from me,” he demanded of the stranger, “Bare yourself to me or I shall kill you.”  
Please. Gods. No.

The stranger used one hand to push the heavy, rain-soaked hood back as Hubert winced upon the vision before him.

He was plagued by ghosts, but none so beautiful as this, even as mud and blood covered her face, as all life seemed drained from her leaving behind a blank husk, a familiar visage from what he had come to know, however, something was indeed wrong.

Byleth’s eye was barely able to focus upon him, dazed and dull. She swayed lightly upon her feat as if she was about to stumble at the next step. They bore no armour, nor weapon of the gods. She more closely resembled a poor peasant caught in the storms, one who was begging for sanctuary from the devil himself.

Hubert gave a hearty, dark laugh at the unwelcomed guest, perhaps fate was cruel, but he could be far crueller given the opportunity. And he was a man of opportunity. 

Standing to the side he gestured for the ghost to enter his temporary domain, curious to see if she would accept his invitation into the darkness of his control. A glean of victory crossed his face when the warrior took a tentative step inside, but as her evident weakness suggested there was no strength left in her being to continue.

As her body fell towards to cold ground he heard her manage to whisper, “….had nowhere else to go…only you…”

Without permission, without thought, and without care, Hubert caught her broken form before it crumpled to the ground, cradling her against him. Concern and unreadable worry danced in his eyes as words failed him. Instead, he pulled her close, daring any soul to try and take her from him.

Dark thoughts swirled within him, a call to order his battalion to claim the prince’s head, a small price to pay in exchange for the broken body that had been gifted to Hubert. However, a gentle hand against his cheek brought him back to the present moment, dulled blue eyes staring back at him, lips moving but only silence was spoken.

Just the way she nestled against him was enough for Hubert to learn just how rough she was, it was far worse than he had been previously been made aware of, it was more than a broken arm.

Swallowing what little pride he had left and mustering what concentrated magic he could muster Hubert set to work in repairing the broken doll, the ghost of his heart’s past, that had reached out to him and him alone.

~


	2. Broken Shadows of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost within her own mind she finally arrived at her reality, rather, the reality that she had been used, broken, and discarded by the man she swore to protect. The man whom she had sacrificed everything for the greater good that she had glimpsed within his fragile heart and for what? To what end had she kindled this greater outcome? The world was aflame in war, so many people had already perished at her hands who had fought to protect their own ideals or merely fighting on behalf of orders given to merely survive in the corrupted world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Here is an unprompted part 2 from Byleth's perspective.  
> I have absolutely no idea where this is going so we are all gonna enjoy the journey.  
> This writing is a little more experimental in that I have been experimenting with some poetry and wanting to incorporate that a little more into the fanfiction side of things.  
> I know these chapters are a little shorter but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

The pitter and the patter of the rain echoed like the smallest and gentlest of drums against her skin. Complemented only by the comforting embrace of the evening air that only accentuated the bitter flare of her broken body. The ground beneath her acted as a pyre for her discarded being as the focus of the world began to return to her.

Lost within her own mind she finally arrived at her reality, rather, the reality that she had been used, broken, and discarded by the man she swore to protect. The man whom she had sacrificed everything for the greater good that she had glimpsed within his fragile heart and for what? To what end had she kindled this greater outcome? The world was aflame in war, so many people had already perished at her hands who had fought to protect their own ideals or merely fighting on behalf of orders given to merely survive in the corrupted world. 

When had things become so tainted? Since when had the power of the goddess become less than adequate to save all these people? 

Questioned swirled, memories added to the already overflowing ocean that was ruled by turmoiled waves, constantly crashing upon her soul.

Painful air suddenly filled her lungs, fully awakening her from the mental reverie that hid the physical pain that her body was straining against. Gasping for breath, wheezing in pain, she tried to force her body upright, commanding it against. 

Visions of the prince’s rage raged to the fore of her consciousness, backed by feelings of betrayal and defeat. Byleth stared down at her body in disbelief, fragments of armour scattered about the ground, pools of blood becoming blended into the through the downpour of rain. She had been left for dead and no one would be coming for her. 

“….”

Though she needed no approval from others in the way she was fighting this war it was the first time she had ever felt completely forgotten, taken for granted. Those feelings hit harder when she could not sense any feeling from her arm and parts of her core and thigh. 

Acid rose upon her tongue, caught up between screaming at the heavens and succumbing to the darkness, she knew that a decision needed to be made, one that would forever alter her fate and the course of Fodlan’s history forever, although she was so wearing of having the fate of the world in her hands. 

To lead by heart had always been a lesson her father had guided her by, and finally, those words made sense. Against all good reason and morals, in this moment of collapsed spirit and vigour, there was only one person whom she could face as she was, only one person who would still accept her with a question, although the risk was the same that he would run a blade across her skin in the sweetest of fashions.

But what was this life if not taking these chances? What had she truly to lose at this point? The prince’s madness knew no limits, no friend would come to her and the war was lost if the rebellion could not move in unity. She was no stranger to the fact that their entire plot relied on her and the sword of the goddess, a weapon of which Byleth had little patience for.

Byleth painfully got to her feet, grinding her teeth as a means to distract from the sharp twinges that rippled throughout. 

And so it was decided, broken and bruised, discard and lost, these were the first steps that she would truly walk for herself freely. 

Those steps would take her to the man who would either love her…

Or kill her.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hoped you enjoyed that little snippet. Let me know if you would like a part 2 to this one, I feel like there is some interesting ideas to explore with these two, in this particular situation. hehehe <3


End file.
